


we'll be f i n e

by orphan_account



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Death, M/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You just can't hit every single one. But you have to. </p>
<p>Again, another ancient fic from my deviantart profile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll be f i n e

Nick couldn't have processed the swirling mass of screaming, groping chaos even if his mind hadn't been fogged with sleep deprivation and panic; pain edging every movement with hints of impossibility. He huffed softly with effort, weaving reflexively out of the way of another viciously-pawing hand, nails dragging in an agonizing swipe across his shoulder, cutting through the fabric of his suit and scoring the flesh beneath. He growled, flipping his gun around to jab it into the face of his attacker, watching those mindless eyes widen in something like the ghost of surprise as it fell to the ground. Another set of claws was dragging him backward by the collar of his shirt, choking him momentarily before a carefully-aimed mule-kick freed him. He swore loudly.

"You okay, Suit?" 

Nick glanced up with a strained nod at the girl, eyes narrowed to gray-green slits at his effort to focus. Rochelle returned the gesture, aiming at an infected zombie attempting to latch itself to Nick's shoulder. A frustrated snarl tore out of him, blinking hard to try to chase away the dragging dizziness that sucked him down, making every step unsteady and unbalanced. His limbs were too heavy, his breath not collecting correctly in the pit of his chest, bringing his to pained gasps as he twisted and whirled, shots ringing out in a half-random order. He heard plaster split and crack on the walls of the house when bullets missed, adding to the deafening cacophony of shrieking and growling. Nick stumbled when recoil bit into his arm again, shooting out the knee cap of an approaching zombie, his eyes unable to look away as the thing- he thought it must have been a woman, her face mauled almost beyond recognition of gender or age- fell to the ground and still surged forward, glaring at him with milky eyes.

A firm hand grasped him under the arm, keeping him from falling. Nick didn't have to look, could already smell the faint scents of motor oil just behind him. He let Ellis steady him, hearing the hick curse sharply and shoot at the next few creatures cramming through the doorway.

They were cornered.

He could hear the stomping footsteps of more of them upstairs, running blindly at the four survivors and quickly overwhelming them. Nick felt the disappointing click of his gun when his bullets ran out, dropping it instantly and dislodging the baseball bat strapped to his back, swinging blindly. 

The sudden pressure around his stomach caught him by surprise, jolting him to the side. A startled yelp made Ellis' head whip around, fear and anger clouding over his face. Nick was dragged away, across the house, though the open archway that connected the entry hall and the living room. He was in the thick of the horde now, finally coming to a stop as he collided stiffly against the Smoker's reeking body. He grasped at the slick length around his torso, tightening, crushing him. He gasped out a few pained breaths before cruel fingers began to tear at him, the Smoker coughing out little growls and rasps and Nick could almost swear that the grotesque thing was laughing. The other infected were closing in on him, taking perfect advantage of his captivity. It was a terrifying whirl of color and confusion and blinding, crippling agony as Nick felt a dozen slices going along his chest and belly and arms. The sickening taste of his own blood filled his mouth, and he spat it into the face of a snarling infected before it tore its nails across his face. Blood stung in his eyes, and it took him a few seconds to even realize that he was screaming.

"No! _No!_!"

The sugar-sweet drawl was enraged and panicked. Nick was hardly conscious enough to realize that the zombies surrounding him were dropping one by one, the suffocating pressure around his torso going slack as the Smoker was killed. A gray cloud swirled around him, tainting the few little breaths that he could manage. His knees hit the ground. Then his body.

" _NICK_!" Somebody was right beside him, coughing and shaking and desperately grasping at his hands. Nick couldn't see past the scarlet-tinged hue in his vision. "Nick… Nick, Nick… C'mon, yuh gotta get up. Shake it off, c'mon, please… _please_ …"

Slowly, the blurry image of the blue-eyed hick solidified, tears leaving glistening tracks in the grime on his cheeks. Ellis squeezed the conman's fingers, bending over him. Harsh tremors passed from his fingers into Nick's, making the conman blink in subtle confusion.

"Whuh're y-you cryin' 'bouh, F-firebahll…?"

Tousled curls fell onto Nick's gore-stained chest, Ellis' shoulder shivering with quiet sobs. "No, no, Nick… Yuh gotta get back up."

The shrieking and gunshots were fading. Nick found it wonderfully easy to focus on just the thick, sweet voice, his head swimming, his body beginning to float.

"C-ca'n, kiddo," he huffed. "Ge'off…"

Fingers only tightened in the jacket of his suit. "Yuh _can't_ , Nick." The calloused pads of gentle fingertips brushed over Nick's mangled face.

The conman blinked slowly, uncomprehending. A thick, heavy blackness was dragging at every limb, anchoring him when Ellis tried to lift him by the shoulders. His head fell back, drawing a startled gasp from the hick, palm sliding behind Nick's head to support it. Foggy green eyes met tear-stained blue. Ellis bent his forehead close to the gambler's, shoulder tightened, arms cradling Nick carefully. 

"Th-h hell're y'doin', El?" Darkness crept from the edges of his vision. He saw the thin, forced smile that Ellis gave him.

"Sh-shh." The Georgian whispered. "S'okay, Nick." The conman's head fell forward onto Ellis' shoulder, warmth of the other man's body detracting from the dull sting that ran along Nick's body. He could feel the lean frame trembling, rocking him slowly. Exhaustion was tugging at Nick's consciousness, a scowl settling over his lips. There was something… Going on. For a brief instant, he was carried back into the throng of screaming and fighting. But then Ellis kept whispering to him, just beside his ear, and Nick decided he would drift in this warm haze for just a little while. 

Ellis' attention was averted only for a moment to the growling creature behind him; the one Coach had missed after his promise to get Ellis' back while the boy helped Nick. But he couldn't seem to grasp the energy to turn and face the thing. He curled tighter around Nick.

The gambler sank into deeper into this little comfortable paradise, wedged into the hick's arms, carried by the smell of gasoline and baking bread, and something else even sweeter that clung to Ellis' skin. He closed his eyes completely, nuzzling softly against the broad chest.

"Shh. S'okay. We're a'ight, Nick."

Maybe he'd just sleep here for a while.


End file.
